“It’s not fair,” Audrey muttered as she unbuttoned her blouse.
I tried not to laugh as I continued moving things around my bedroom to give myself the most access. I stripped the pillows off the bed and moved a chair and a folding table next to it. I put a tray with cold glasses of water and snacks on the table. The whole thing was going to take a glorious while.
“It is exactly fair. We made a bet, you lost that bet. I even gave you an out, but you said you don’t break your word. Are you backing out?”
“God, Tom, I’m not backing out!” she said, thoroughly offended.
“I said I would do it and I will. But two hours seems excessive!” she said, taking off her blouse and standing up to unzip the side of her skirt.
The skirt slipped off and she stood in front of me in bra and panties. She stopped talking and her eyes dodged mine.
Catherine came to the old house on Oak Street in Spring, a month before her thirtieth birthday, just after she received masters degree in sociology and decided she never wanted to teach again.
Mrs. Sullivan, having once had seven children and a wealthy second husband, was left with a giant empty house with eight large bedrooms when the husband died and the children grew up and moved away.
The black and white picture on the mantle showed a buxom brunette with a knowing smile. The woman in the rocking chair on the porch had the ghost of that saucy looking girl in her, buried under the wrinkles and silver hair.
Mrs. Sullivan rented out seven of the bedrooms of the ancient townhouse and one of her many sons come by to check on things a few times a week.
That first year Catherine had seen many lodgers come and go. Most of their own free will, though a few were kicked out by police or Mrs. Sullivan’s son. There had only been one tenant who had been there as long as Catherine and that was Mr. Miller.
During her first week in Mrs. Sullivan’s house there was a boisterous college boy named Lester who knew all the gossip. Lester pointed at the room across from Catherine’s and explained that it was “Old Gray Bill’s” place.
A little shile ago I did my first Self Care Writing Prompt Marathon. I ended up doing 46 stories with a total of over 13,000 words. Thanks for the prompts and the encouragement! Here are all the stories:
The bar was beautiful, dimly lit, with dark wood paneled walls, black lacquered tables, low music, and a hushed buzz of conversation.
The bartender nodded at me as I walked the length of the bar. His muscles rippled as he shook a chrome mixer of ice and some delicious cocktail.
I passed couples sitting close, whispering and smiling, a few kissing over their drinks. I passed it all though, going to the back of the place, then through French doors to a silent hallway, then down stairs to a metal door with a slit that slid open sharply as I approached.
Serious brown eyes met mine and studied me for a moment. I nodded at him and then pulled up my lapel to show my pin. His eyes fell to the gold bunch of grapes which held the letters O and D. He nodded again before the slit closed and the door opened.
A tall man in a black suit with a black shirt and a black tie led me into a parlor with identical furnishing as the bar. It even had the same music.
The difference was that along one wall were a row of nude legs and hips. Nine pairs of legs, attached to people who were bent over, with their heads and torsos swallowed up by some kind of enclosure in the wall, like medieval stocks but far more beautifully designed.
I had heard about this place many times, but had been hesitant to visit. The Order had many palaces of entertainment in the city, each unique and complicated. This was one of the most secret.
Now, there is a lot of erotica out there, so part of that is just not being able to find erotica that suits me. I am very much not into romance genre erotica, which is most of what is out there. Billionaire, werewolves, the ever present cocky alpha. These are things that as so far from what turns me on that I’m better off reading cricket scores to get off.
That all being said, I search. I’m happy to take recommendations.
It’s a wonderful novella. A young college girl named Summer, who is living with a family friend during school, gets into a very interesting relationship with her landlord cum caregiver, Victoria. Soon Victoria becomes “Nanny Victoria” and the two wrestle with a budding power dynamic and how the rules of the household might work once nightly suckling at Nanny’s breasts and lingering fingered baths become part of their lives.
There is a lovely tension, a building, and I really liked how the rules changed over the course of the story until the two (and eventually the three) partners found something that worked for all of them. A sweet ending along with a glimpse into a complex past.
It was a story that was complete, but didn’t give away everything and left a sweet air of mystery.
Ageplay, without ever using the term, spankings, domination, and even a few kinks I’m not that into like diapers/pee, but it all worked for me and was hot as hell.
“Ok, ok, so we are just bored girls who don’t want to go out in the heat and we want to play our game, but it would be twenty times more fun to play it in here, since you have both a PokéStop and intense air conditioning magic so we are willing to, you know, get topless and stuff,” she said, still seeming to be hypnotized by the smell of the pizza.
“And stuff?” he said, opening the box and taking out a slice.
She watched him take bite, licking her lips.
“Yeah, you can, like, touch our tits. Not like, the whole time, but when there are no Pokémon around, we will let you feel us up and maybe we’ll make out with you and stuff,” she explained, the last words trailing into slight mumbling.
Mark finished the slice in a few large bites, then he washed it down with his beer.
“Both of you?”
“Making out and ‘feel you up?’ That’s kind of sounds like high school doesn’t it?”
“Kinda. That’s kinda hot, right?” she said with a wide sly smile.
Mark tried to fight the smile, but he nodded and laughed.
“Kinda,” he agreed.
He laughed his cruel laugh again as she felt the old rug grind against her naked knees.
“Listen, you’re just the new girl, you don’t think you deserve my cock all for yourself do you?”
The two other girls smirked and snickered.
She wasn’t a person really. Not that night. She was just one of three sluts kneeling at his cock.
Some part of her recoiled, knowing how fucked up it was, but a much stronger part of her wet her lips, assuring her that she would show them. She would suck the best and he would realize she was the best toy. He would see past those other girls, she just knew it.
But in her contemplation she had missed some signal he gave and the other girls had descended on his cock before she could. She could only hover near it, watching their greedy pink lips suck, waiting for them to give her enough room, unable to to do anything but lean in because of her bound hands behind her back.
The situation made her dizzy and confused and so wet she could feel her inner thighs slick with her messy need.
It felt good to have daily routines. It made her feel rooted. The same breakfast every morning; oatmeal with a banana in the winter and fall, yogurt and granola in the summer and spring. She always took the 8:14am train into the city. She always got to the station early and bought the Times and a medium coffee; skim milk, no sugar.
Three days a week she went to the gym before work. Chest and biceps on Tuesday, shoulder and triceps on Thursday, and back and legs on Saturday.
On Sundays she made and packed lunches for the week. A lean protein, two vegetables, no starch, and a piece of fruit.
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after work she took the subway downtown instead of getting the PATH train home and stopped for an hour or so at his apartment.